


Let These Hands Rebuild Your Heart

by Turkington82



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Sex, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo ex marine, Ben Solo is living the cottage craftsman life with lots of plaid, Ben Solo was in the army, Carpenter Ben Solo, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Drinking (not alcoholism, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Have I mentioned his very large hands, He makes things with his hands, Oral Sex, Protective Rey (Star Wars), Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Ben Solo, Star Wars Modern AU, Tags will be updated as I go along, Touch-Starved, ben solo's hands, realistic sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turkington82/pseuds/Turkington82
Summary: - PROLOGUE -Ben Solo has seen chaos, felt pain. War has torn him and taught him that all beauty fades, that all love leads to loss.  Wanting to shield himself after being honourably discharged from active service, he chooses to retreat from daily life to a small cottage by the sea, taking up an offer from his uncle. Away from the busy life, Ben works as a carpenter and instrument maker, seeking solace from the pain he has experienced through quiet solitude, working with his hands in the sanctuary of his workshop. He loses himself in the craft of building beautiful things for others to enjoy, knowing he will only taste the joy of the fleeting moment of creation before passing these things on. And that is as much as he can take.Until Rey.Rey doesn't know where she is going, only that she must go forwards. Not look back. Move on from the pain she needs to heal from. She's searching, she just hasn't figured out what for. When she lands in Innishvore looking for work, for any means to make the next buck to take the next step of her travels she doesn't anticipate finding any reason to stay.Until Ben.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 18
Kudos: 42





	1. Prologue

The dark, lined plane of rosewood warmed under Ben Solo’s hands as he smoothed the sandpaper along its length, backwards and forwards in a slow, practiced rhythm. His broad, muscled body was bent over his work table, elbows and forearms stained and oily with wax polish, hands strong as they travelled across the even wood, his brows furrowed in concentration as his watchful eyes checked for any tiny blemish in his work.

The guitar would be finished with a frontispiece of carved walnut wood and a fretboard of maple. Once the hollow body was complete and the fretboard attached, Ben would take his time to varnish it - one coat, two. He would lay the strings along the fret and twist them tight around the heads. Then, in the dark of his room as a fire crackled, playing shadow games across the walls of his workshop late into evening, he’d place the finished instrument across his knee and begin to bring forth it’s sweet sounds.

First, the strings.

Ben would need to tauten and tune, tauten and tune. His fingers would play and pluck the strings over and over as they stretched and creaked and warmed and cooled in the changing air inside his small cottage, as they trained and bent to his will. A rasping twang would soften under Ben’s fingers into a sweet reverb. Jarring notes would give way to melody. As he plucked, the strings would stretch and soon the instrument would hum with pleasure.

In a soft, low voice, Ben would sing - lips barely moving, lullabies with no words, hums, mumbles and memories he brought forth only in these moments, when the instrument he had made with his humble hands needed to be given life. He’d pour a drink, maybe a second. Sometimes, if he remembered, he would jot the words that formed in his heart onto a scrap of paper, whatever he could find in the workshop to hand. Scribbling down his notes, the thoughts that formed as the strings of his guitar vibrated sound across the stone walls.

In those moments - and only in those moments - was Ben truly at peace with his thoughts, was his heart calm. Once he’d hope to share these songs, to share the peace that grew inside him in this moment.

But where once, younger, he’d lived with passion and energy and spark, his world had since shown him only chaos and loss, and he had learned that all beauty, all love, all pleasure was fleeting, illusionary. They would disappear, move on, just like the guitars and violins that he crafted, that would go on to owners far away and bring about songs and melodies that were not his, that he would never enjoy, to be heard by people who were not his.

So Ben poured his heart into the creation, into the work, into the labour of his hands, the precision of his task, the darkness and sanctuary of his workshop and resigned to being alone, taking these fleeting pleasures as a secret, private joy, but refusing to hold on to them. Losing himself back in the work when they were gone. He always feared finding beauty again. It caused him too much fear. Too much chaos. Too much to lose.

That was… until Rey.

***


	2. By the light of a pale moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben meet for the first time, by the light of a silvery moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos and suggestions are like milk and honey to me!  
> ***  
> The chapter count is tentative as I honestly have NO idea how long this will be, it will depend also on enthusiasm from the readership!

The day Maz offered Rey a job at her general store, the first piece of her heart began to heal.

For three long months now, Rey had been wandering the country, a tattered rucksack on her back and battered boots, tracing no clear path other than  _ forward  _ and  _ further _ , her heart bruised black and blue. For three long months, she’d carried the betrayal of her former lover like a rock in the pit of her stomach, a weight in her bones. She hadn’t even truly loved the boy. They had met too young and he was more of an illusion of “home”, than a true and equal partner. But she was not experienced in these things, she had just needed solace from her lonely childhood, her life without parents, without family, without belonging. He was convenient. For a while he was someone to hold on to.

The day he had left her it was a mumbled apology, something about her being "too complicated". Looking anywhere but at her eyes, a hotel room already booked for him to escape to, like he’d planned this carefully. Left her for his _ assistant  _ \- what an embarrassingly _ obvious _ cliché. Rey felt the abandonment acutely - it wasn’t even about losing love. She knew that wasn’t even what they had. It was the sucker punch in the gut, the black terror of being left alone again, discarded, abandoned, unwanted. Unneeded. The black dog had reared its ugly head.

So she walked away. Called the temping firm she worked at to give her notice and ask for her final dues, packed her few clothes, her notebooks, camera and scant savings and walked out the front door. Looking... she didn’t really know what for, but just needing somewhere new to begin. All over again. That was Rey. Always looking for family, for her belonging, always forward. Never back.

***

Rey had arrived at Innishvore on a rainy afternoon in late summer. The wind was… let’s call it pummeling. A bank of heavy, gunmetal-grey clouds hung low in the sky. The coach that had dropped her off in the High Street had had the generosity of spirit to also plough through a puddle as deep as a swimming pool as it pulled away from the kerb alongside her, drenching her to the tops of her calves and souring an already long day cramped up beside a noisy kid and his eager exploration of his nostrils with his chubby fingers. 

She didn’t have a plan. But according to her well-thumbed guidebook, picked up at a secondhand bookshop a few days before, Innishvore was quaint and relatively remote, had a picturesque harbour, many nearby cliff top walks and, most importantly, a thriving winter tourist season owing to the village’s location in the far north of the country making it an ideal viewing spot for star gazers and even, occasionally, the northern lights. All good and well, Rey thought, as long as it also meant plenty of seasonal jobs - her funds were running low and she needed to make some cash for a couple of months before setting off again. Settling anywhere permanently right now wasn’t really the plan, just long enough to save up for her next move…

She’d ducked into the nearest pub, “The Cloak and Cask Inn”, to dry off, ask about accommodation, and to eat. Her stomach was rumbling like thunder growls. She’d locked eyes with Maz as soon as she’d walked in, hair bedraggled and stuck to her forehead, backpack dripping onto the bare wood floors. 

“Well aren’t you a sight, little lady.” Maz had chuckled, two bright, kind eyes looking up at Rey with piqued curiosity through a comically large pair of coke-bottle glasses. Maz had been sat alone at a table, nursing a mug of something steaming hot and going through an accounts book, her small frame barely big enough to fit comfortably with the height of the table, yet giving off a proud, bemused and fearless air. Rey smiled awkwardly, staring down at her rain-sodden jeans and biting her lip. 

“Not quite my best look,” she acknowledged, nodding back at the small lady. “I’m Rey. Um… you wouldn’t happen to know if there are any rooms here at all? To stay? I’ve just come off the cross-country bus… could use a shower. I mean an actual shower, as opposed to…” she had gestured vaguely towards the outside where the light drizzle had turned into more of a biblical downpour. 

Maz had patted the empty seat at the table beside her and winked.

“We’ll find you a room. Don’t worry, my husband’s the manager and it’s the middle of the week, lots of availability. We’ll get your sorted. But first, you need feeding. And I want to know your story... you look like you’ve got some tales to tell and I’m sure as hell bored of doing my accounts.” she smiled, mischievously.

Rey grinned and hastily divested herself of her soggy bag, jacket and scarf and plopped herself down in the indicated seat as Maz hollered towards the bar. “Chewie?! Get another hot toddy for my new friend here, Rey. She needs warming up! And some of that stew.”

And so it began. Three hours, countless stories, and probably more whisky toddies than were strictly necessary later and Rey and Maz had become firm friends. And Maz had offered her to help run her small shop and help with odd jobs over the busier tourist season, in exchange for a small room, half-board and enough cash to save up for the next leg of her adventures. 

***

Maz’s shop sold all sorts. One of those out-of-time, dusty-shelved emporiums stacked high and full with no particularly obvious order or sense. The front was a grocery store of sorts: organic fruit and veg, bread and milk, eggs and produce from local farms. Maz sold basic toiletries, the daily papers, magazines, there was always a selection of second hand books people seemed to drop off regularly. The back was more of a jumble of craft supplies, electrical parts, mailing supplies, random gardening things like seed packets and trowels. The entire place was as quirky as Maz, charmingly odd. People came in just looking for a carton of milk, got chatting with Maz and left an hour later laden with plants, books, paint pots and a homemade cake. It was homely. Homely in a way that Rey both loved but which also sent a shiver of anxiety down her spine, anything homely gave her something to lose. 

It was at the end of her first week working at the store that Rey was asked to help with customer delivery runs. Innishvore was quite a remote village, with more than a few residents living in far flung farmsteads or surrounding hamlets, or were just elderly. Maz had taken to running a weekly delivery service dropping off grocery orders at a few people’s homes on a Friday afternoon. Normally the neighbouring family’s boy ran the drop offs but he’d gone off to university and Maz really preferred closing the week’s accounts before the weekend. 

“I’ll do it” Rey offered, immediately. “Gives me a chance to get a proper look at the local countryside, I’ve not really explored since I got here! Where am I going to?” Rey was busy wiping down the shelves and tidying up the storefront. 

“Well, there’s the Wexley’s on Oak Farm - he’s quite ill and she’s too old to drive now. They have a carer who visits them with a big shop once in a while, but she likes our honey and eggs. Then… well, there’s Solo.”

“Solo? That’s… that’s a person?”

“Yes. Ben Solo.” Maz went quiet and heaved a sigh, looking sad for a moment. Wistful. “Troubled boy, Ben. Poor lad.” 

“What’s… what’s wrong?”

“Oh… well. It’s a long story. I only really know bits of it. He’s… very private. I’m an old friend of his father you see, knew Ben when he was a nipper. They’re… estranged now. Anyway… Solo’s a bit of a recluse these days. He lives out by the headland. There’s an old fishing cottage there, belonged to the family. He keeps himself to himself, out there.”

“What happened?” Rey asked, hesitant. _Was it going to be awkward delivering things to him?_ _Was he some kind of weird eccentric hermit?_

“Well, he was a Marine. Went to war back in 2003. Iraq. Came back 3 years later...changed. I rarely saw him after that. He holed up in that cottage.”

“Oh”. Rey felt a pang of guilt at her first instinct about this mysterious Mr. Solo. God knows what he’d witnessed out there. 

“I tried for a while, you know. Went to visit him. I like to poke my nose in… like all old ladies.” She gave a small, half-sad smile. “For a while when he came back he’d come into the store now and again and exchange a few words. But he wasn’t chatty like he used to be. And he’d stopped smiling. Then when I started offering deliveries that was it. He just stopped coming to town at all except once a month for the big market in town. He… he’s a woodworker now. Carpentry. Makes beautiful instruments. Does some odd jobs...”

Maz trailed off, realising Rey looked a bit awkward.

“Oh, don’t worry dear. I’m just wittering on. He’s just a quiet soul, is all. But nothing to worry about. I just wish there was a way to get him back to his old self, cheer him up. He was such an energetic bright thing… before. But… I’ve tried, many times, to talk to him, tried inviting him out with Chewie and I and maybe he just wants to be left alone. Doesn’t need two old folks like us butting in… Anyway. He orders the same groceries like clockwork every time, asks for them to just be left by the door. So if you can just do that after you’ve done the drop at the Wexley’s, then… that’s it. The rest of the evening is yours!”

She snapped back to a grin, realising she’d brought a cloud of melancholy over the store, which was not Maz’s style at all. 

Rey was brimming with curiosity and a creeping pain in her chest for this stranger she’d never even met. Like she understood the wavelength he was living on, knowing nothing more than what Maz had told her. This Solo character sounded… so lonely. And loneliness was Rey’s greatest fear. She knew loneliness well, knew that very few people would  _ choose  _ it. Wondered what pain this Ben Solo was harbouring out there. Why had he shuttered himself away from life? What had he seen?

By the time she was packing Maz’s small car for the delivery run she was itching to find out more. 

***

The cottage was a ramshackle, whitewashed affair covered in creeping vines and topped with a low chimney stack that right now was puffing out wisps of woodsmoke that permeated the thick damp chill evening air as Rey pulled up in Maz’s small van. The larger main structure was set in a curve of the hill on which it nestled, surrounded by thickets and bramble bushes, then a smaller, slightly lopsided side building - maybe once a stable back when the cottage would have been built. The front door was bright red but looked in need of a lick of paint. The small, sash windows on the ground floor were misted up but from one room -  _ a living room? _ \- a faint, welcoming orange glow illuminated the pathway to the door. There was no sound except the crashing waves from the small cove just beyond the cottage where the gravel track petered out into a footpath that disappeared into the grass. Rey couldn’t see the sea, but the salt in the air clung to her cheeks as she stepped out of the vehicle and the rolling waves whispered at her through the dark. It was only seven in the evening, but the winter nights started early and her only light now was the window glow and the milky pale moon above her. 

It seemed peaceful. Beautiful. But lonely.

_ I’ll just drop the bag by the door, knock and leave him to it _ , Rey thought,  _ he’ll know what it is, he’s expecting his delivery _ . It was what Maz had recommended. Although she couldn’t help but be intrigued about this Ben Solo, and really wanted to know more.  _ Maybe I should stick around until he’s got his packages safely? Just to make sure some fox or something doesn’t snuffle through the bags? _

She shook her head. That was a terrible excuse. If he didn’t like chatting, or company, or other people, she wasn’t going to get in the way of that. He sounded pretty determined to avoid any human interaction. 

She pulled open the side door to the van and picked up the two brown bags of groceries, the scrawled sheet of notepad paper marked  _ For Ben  _ stapled to one of them and hauled them out. As she did she felt a movement, like someone standing in the window causing a shadow to fall across the glow of the light.  _ Was he watching her? _

No mind. It was gone. She grabbed the bags and crunched up the gravel to the small gate, nudging it with her foot and walking up to the red front door. For a reason she couldn’t fathom her chest was constricting, her heart beat more rapid.  _ Why am I being so ridiculous?  _ She thought.

She shook her head again and dropped the bags by the front door. A plain black iron knocker in the door was in lieu of a door bell. Rey knocked hard, three times, then - rubbing her hands together against the cold - turned to make her way back to the van.

Her feet crunched back up the path and had just reached the gate when she heard the front door open and felt a pair of eyes on her back. The light grew brighter as the open door lit up the ground before her. No voice spoke, just the sound of bags rustling. Then the movement stopped. Rey couldn’t help but swing around. I mean, he hadn’t even said thank you, which seemed rude. She should say something.

But when she turned and faced towards the door, her eyes fell immediately on the tall, broad figure of one Ben Solo. A pair of dark eyes half in shadow. The softest mouth. Lips parted in the slightest surprise. 

Rey couldn’t speak if she tried. Her heart had stopped in her mouth.

***

Ben stood in the doorway of the small cottage, his body taking up almost the entire space, the top of his head grazing against the painted wooden frame. These small outhouses had been designed for people much smaller than him, his big frame, broad and - in his eyes - inelegant and clumsy, was always a source of slight discomfort to him. He hadn’t planned on talking to anyone that day. Hadn’t planned on any interaction whatsoever, as usual, but he’d noticed when the van pulled up that it wasn’t Maz today. It was someone different. 

A girl. 

She was small, lithe, but looked strong. He couldn’t see her face much in the dark, except for her small... _ pretty _ ... nose. She looked cold padding around to the side of the van in a thick wool sweater, jeans and mud-spattered boots, a thick scarf wrapped several times around her neck. Her breath came out in small white puffs. She blew into her hands and rubbed them together before pulling open the doors to the van, a lock of brown hair falling across her cheeks and eyes and something in his chest ached. 

_ Who was she?  _

He didn’t know why but suddenly he felt self-conscious looking down at his dishevelled state. He’d barely finished for the day when he heard the van arrive. He’d been tidying his work counter, putting away his tools and his hands were still stained and fingernails dirty from work, palms raw from sandpaper and splinters. His hair was a mess, the old navy fisherman’s sweater he wore for dirty work was also stained, with a hole in the elbow and on one shoulder. He shouldn’t care. He had no intention of talking to anyone. No one. But… 

He hurriedly ran a hand through his hair, wiping his palms as best he could on the back of his jeans and checking his reflection in the small, cracked shaving mirror that sat by the kitchen sink - where he usually shaved, whenever he actually bothered. 

He heard her soft footsteps crunch up the path and he was already by the door, listening. He wanted to open it, to see her face in the light, but was embarrassed. She probably wanted to get on with her evening, dump the groceries and go. Back to whatever plans she had.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

His heart pounded in his chest, taken by surprise even thought he’d heard her approach. 

_ What the fuck, Ben. What’s wrong with you? _

He lingered behind the door, holding his breath. Heard her put the bags down. 

She was lingering too.  _ What was she waiting for? _

A beat. Two. Then she turned and walked away. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the gravel. 

He had to see her face.

He lifted the latch and pulled the door open, peering out into the night at her retreating figure. Saw her pause and take a breath. Her shoulders tightened slightly. Then she turned, her face lit up by the soft, pale light from his doorway, the milky moon.

Time stood still, as did his heart.

Standing before him, eyes startled and cheeks flushed from the winter cold was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And in an instant, it terrified him.   
  
  



	3. Speak so little, say so much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets Ben for the first time.   
> .  
> Few words are exchanged, but both are left flustered by the encounter.

**\- CHAPTER 3 -**

Rey didn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath until the faint craw of a bird pierced the weighted silence from somewhere in the dark cluster of trees by the cottage. 

Ben looked as startled as she by the sound, his eyes suddenly lowering, awareness creeping in that he’d been staring. He worried his bottom lip then cleared his throat.

“Hi.” His eyes flickered upwards for a moment, caught hers, then were downcast again. He nudged the scuffed toe of his boot against one of the bags, then looked up again at Rey. 

“Hi.” She said, quietly. 

She hadn’t stopped watching him and his cheeks heated. He couldn’t control it for a moment.

“I’m…” he cleared his throat, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m Ben.”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the deep rumble of his voice. She tugged the scarf around her neck slightly tighter where one end hung loose. 

“Oh… uh, I’m Rey. Nice to meet you.” She whispered, turning to face him properly, but not moving from her spot. He looked…  _ uncomfortable? Afraid? But also… curious. _

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She added hastily, a shiver running through her as a gust of wind whipped up from the coast beyond. “I just… I didn’t want an animal or something getting at…”

“It’s ok.” Ben mumbled. Then a bit louder, standing taller in the doorway. “Thank you… Rey.” 

He mouthed her name slowly, gently. His eyes wide, locked on hers. 

It really was cold. But all Rey could feel was his gaze on her, the thump of her heart in her chest. She didn’t know why she felt such adrenaline, only that she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He was beautiful. His eyes betraying a softness, but also quiet intensity. 

It was disarming.

“Anyway…I should be getting back.” Rey said, gesturing vaguely behind her at the van. “I just… I hope everything’s there in the bags. Um… have a nice evening. Again, I’m uh, sorry.” 

_ What am I even apologising for? And why am I not moving? _

“No, really, it’s ok. Please don’t apologise.” Ben almost stuttered. “I… where’s the other kid? Or Maz? Is she… is she ok?” 

He looked troubled for a moment, a shadow passing over his face, those dark hazel eyes back on her. Piercing. 

“Oh! Yes, she’s fine. Just… I work at the store now. I just started this week and she asked me to do the Friday rounds so she can close the accounts. So, um… it’ll be me from now on. Doing the Friday deliveries.” 

She swallowed. 

“I uh...won’t knock next time. I know you don’t want to be… um. I’ll just leave them. Won’t disturb.”

Rey looked at the ground, wrapping her arms tighter around her chest. She had a million questions. Wanted to know his story. Wanted to get closer. But she remained, rooted to the spot. 

And then the corner of Ben’s lips curled ever so slightly, the faintest of smiles - it lasted a second. He ran a hand through his hair, then absently reached down to scratch at an oil stain on the front of his sweater. 

“You must think I’m a real asshole.” he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Maz told you not to knock, right? Dump the bags and run?” He took a deep breath and pursed his lips, watching Rey expectantly.

“Uh… no, well… um…” 

_Well this was uncomfortable._ _But oh, that small smile. Oh, she wanted to see it again._

“It’s ok.” He said, quickly. “I… I did ask that. It’s just because… I’m… I’m not good with people. Not like Maz.”

The smile flickered across his face again. A shadow of a smile really. A ghost. 

Rey stepped closer, the moonlight dancing across her cheeks as she walked towards him across the gravel. She could almost hear Ben’s intake of breath. 

He spoke to cover the sound of the hammering in his chest.

“The other kid that used to come? I made him a guitar once, so… then he always wanted to see me work, always wanted to come in and… he talked non stop and... uh… sometimes I’m just tired in the evening. So I just asked Maz to…” He swallowed, visibly embarrassed. 

“Yeah, I sound like an ass. Even to myself.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Maz is a talker!” Rey shot Ben a smile, rescuing him. “You don’t need to explain to me, I’m just… here to drop the stuff off. It’s none of my business. I’ll be going.”

For a moment Ben looked like he might be about to step back and invite her in. A coffee maybe. She saw the thought flash over his face.

_ Do it. _ She willed.  _ If nothing else, I’m really freezing now. _

“Well… thanks for the drop off.” Ben mumbled. Then he just cleared his throat again and bent down to pick up the bags, lifting them effortlessly. 

“Oh. Sure. Well, nice to meet you.” Rey said, frustrated at not knowing the words to get him to open up. Wondering why she was so bothered, so desperate to know more. 

“Yep.” Ben turned and pushed his way back into the cottage, leaving Rey to trudge back to the van, breath coming out in short white wisps of vapour against the crisp night air.

Just as she got to the van and closed the boot she heard the door of the cottage creak open once more. With the light behind him it was almost impossible to see Ben’s face, but she felt his eyes and saw the half wave of his hand.

“Will you be delivering next week?” He asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice. Unless she was imagining it. 

“Yes, it’s me from now on.”

“Ok. Well… Good. I’ll, er… see you next Friday.” And with that the door was shut.

_ What level of lonely was this man that he made it sound like a grocery drop off was a date? _ Rey wondered. 

_ And what level of lonely am I that I’m even having that thought? _

  
  
  
  


***

Inside the cottage, Ben dumped the grocery bags on the solid oak table in the kitchen, one he’d made when he first moved into the place. He was fidgety and agitated, his pulse quick in his veins.

He poured a large glass of water from the sink and gulped it in one go, then reached for a bottle of Scotch he kept on a shelf and poured two generous fingers of the stuff in. A deep, long drink of that, fire down his throat. 

He was pacing.

The girl. Something about her had caught him off guard. Everything about her. 

She was beautiful, that much was obvious. And it had been years, absolutely years since he’d even noticed women, other people. But it was more. She’d looked… vulnerable. Lonely. Somehow stronger for it. She’d knocked on his door, knowing he’d asked not to be disturbed and she’d watched him with those large, soft eyes. Curious. And kind.

He had wanted to talk to her but didn’t even know where to begin, it had been so long and he felt like such a coward, such a pompous fool in his reclusiveness. He had wanted to invite her in. But to say what? To do what? He’d barely grunted at her,  _ what an ass _ . Why would she waste her time? 

She probably just wanted to get a look at “hermit Ben”, see what the fuss was about. 

_ Not much.  _ Ben mused. Another long drink of the Scotch.

And yet… he’d felt like he’d be safe. If he talked to her. Like she’d listen. 

Maybe next Friday… seven days… 

***

Rey drove the long way back to Innishvore, along tight, winding country roads, wanting some time to just drive aimlessly. The thick trees and dark rolling hills rattling past the van in the pitch of night, the coast spread out to her left, waves shimmering under the white moon. 

She couldn’t shift Ben’s face from her mind. Those eyes, dark, warm, eyes that when they look at you, see nothing else. His shoulder, the long legs, almost comical how he barely fit in his doorway, impossibly large, clearly strong and powerful and yet, there was something tender there. Wounded. That mouth. 

Rey didn’t believe in being dumbstruck by men, swept off her feet or flashes of inspiration. But right now, she was rattled. Her hands gripped the steering wheel hard and in the pit of her stomach something fluttered, a low, almost sick feeling, yet utter pleasant. 

_ What’s he so afraid of?  _ She wondered. He’d been so awkward, but there was something there. He’d wanted to talk. He had come out to meet her and watched her, his eyes were asking to know more, but he’d said nothing.

Then a new feeling crept into Rey’s heart. 

_ Don’t get close. If he wants to be alone, let it be. It’s better for you. You need to keep moving.  _

She’d be gone in two months and the mere idea of forming any more friendships than strictly necessary scared her. Another thing to lose in the long run. Another thing that wouldn’t work out. Another heartache.

She drove into the main square of the town and parked, then headed straight to the pub for a cold beer. There was live music on Fridays and she needed the distraction, needed to occupy her thoughts. And it worked, almost.

Until the band started, and she remembered Ben’s story about the guitar he’d made for the boy. And as she watched the old folk singer strumming his tune and drank another beer, she imagined Ben’s hands playing, working the wood.

_ Fuck.  _ She thought.  _ I want to see him again. Fuck.  _

Seven days…

***

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, in an effort to be able to post more regularly I'll be keeping chapters shorter (I tend to write 10k word chapters, so this is really a reminder for myself!!) I got a new job which just started hence this one took a long time to get posted. Your comments, feedback, kudos would be so enormously appreciated as this is my first Reylo and I am not too shameless to beg for your thoughts! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Reylo - please be kind! I'm not a seasoned fanfic writer, I have only written [one other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328124/chapters/55880701) and I am not "down with the kids" and super well-versed in my tagging / all the jargon etc. I massively appreciate any guidance! This is going to be a romance, with angst, smut, fluff, more smut. I've always wanted to write Ben Solo as a woodworker, and I love the beauty and rugged backdrop of somewhere like the Irish coast, or any small seaside town with a wild coastline... So here it is. I haven't planned this out, I hope to be guided quite a bit by feedback and audience response, if I get any!!! The next chapter is already written and a third halfway completed. I hope to write a chapter a week. Any comments / kudos are GOLD for me and will keep me writing!


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